One Reason
by Cats070911
Summary: After a family tragedy, Tommy retreats to Howenstowe and the bottle. Can Barbara reach him? Warning: minor character death.


Author's note: all usual disclaimers apply.

* * *

When his phone buzzed, Detective Inspector Tommy Lynley looked at the screen then hit the red symbol.

"Shouldn't you answer it?" his sergeant asked as they walked towards the car park. It had been a long day, and she was tired.

"It's only Peter. He probably wants money. I'll call him tomorrow. Fancy a drink? Maybe we could get dinner at the pub too?"

Barbara nodded. It had become a routine. They ate dinner together most nights after work, and sometimes on weekends when they caught up to go through notes. Tommy always asked her in the same casual way. Occasionally he suggested a different venue. Sometimes they followed it by going to the movies or a West End show that he suddenly found he had tickets for and no one but Barbara to take. It was almost a ritual, and usually ended up with him taking her home, and more often than not, sleeping on her new couch - the longer one she had invested in when she noticed him having issues with his back. Her boss even had an overnight bag with pyjamas and toiletries that he left in her flat. She was sure her neighbours thought he was sharing her bed, but he had never once even tried to kiss her. Barbara was resigned to it being platonic but having him there was enough. In many ways, they were closer than husband and wife. It was rare that she ever pined for more.

"Dinner sounds good. Thanks."

Over a couple of beers and a shared steak and kidney pie, they chatted about their latest murder. "I still think the wife did it," Barbara told him, "she had motive and she has beady little eyes."

"Oh, well, that's definite then. Anyone with beady little eyes deserves the death penalty."

Barbara laughed and took a sip of her beer. "You'll see. I don't know if you..."

Tommy's phone rang again. This time he looked and sighed. "It's Mother. Hello, Mother. "

Barbara watched his brow lower and crinkle. The tiny laugh lines became a scowl. He lowered his phone and stared straight ahead. "It's Peter. He's taken an overdose."

"Is he...?"

Tommy shrugged. "I don't know. They've rushed him to the hospital. I... should probably go there. Mother is getting a car and driver to bring her up. Judith will fly down from York in the morning."

"Which hospital? I can drive you." They had been using her car all week as his Bristol was in for a costly repair to an obscure and hard to find engine part.

"No, I can take a cab. He's at Hammersmith. Charing Cross Hospital."

"I'll drive. Come on, let's go."

* * *

Barbara hated hospitals. They always brought back bad memories of Terry and to a lesser extent, Helen. Tommy looked pale as they enquired at the desk and were were directed to Peter's ward. She had expected Tommy to be blustery and angry. Instead, he was sullen. That scared her. She knew he felt guilty about not taking Peter's call. If his brother died, Tommy may never forgive himself, and Barbara knew how self-destructive her boss could be. Lately, he had been relaxed and happy. She had even begun to believe that they had found an equilibrium that brought them both peace. Now the balance had tipped dangerously.

Peter was lying in the bed, his arms over the blanket with a drip in one arm and monitors attached to the other. A breathing tube was attached to him and the room was dominated by the click and wheeze of artificial breathing. Barbara pulled up a chair. "Sit down, Sir."

"Thanks."

"I'll go to the bathroom and give you some time alone with Peter."

"Why?"

"So you can talk to him."

"He's unconscious. How can I talk to him?"

Barbara felt her face colouring. "I thought... you might have things you wanted to say."

"You think he'll die don't you?"

"No, I just thought... anyway, I do need the loo. I'll be back."

"You don't have to stay."

He did not sound bitter or angry, but it was hard not to feel hurt. "I want to stay."

"I didn't think you liked my brother."

"I'm staying for you, not him."

Tommy looked up and gave her a sad half smile. His eyes spoke of his appreciation. "Thank you."

* * *

When Barbara returned from the bathroom, she overheard two nurses discussing Peter and Tommy at the nurses' station.

"It's such a shame. He's quite cute," the younger one said and followed it with a childish giggle.

The older nurse laughed. "Which one? They're both as sexy as hell."

"I'm betting the older one is a real player. I'm surprised his girlfriend is like that. He should have someone younger, with long legs and a great boobs."

"Like you, perhaps?"

She did not care what they thought of her, but Barbara resented the way Tommy was being objectified and stereotyped, even if it had once been partially true. She was about to step forward and say something when she overheard devastating news.

"He'll need a shoulder to cry on when he learns his brother is brain-dead. When is the next-of-kin due?"

"In the morning. By then we will have the required 12 hours of brainwave results. I expect they will pull the pin about lunchtime."

Barbara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was not her place to tell Tommy. She put on her bravest face and returned to the room. Tommy was holding his brother's hand but pulled back as soon as the door opened.

Barbara walked over and picked up Peter's hand and held it out to her friend. "Don't be embarrassed."

"I'm not. It just makes no sense. He can't tell I'm here."

"You don't know that." Barbara was suddenly unsure about her beliefs. She had always been convinced that once a person was dead, that was it. Now she wondered if Peter was somehow looking on before he left.

Tommy held Peter's hand and Barbara rested her hand on her boss's shoulder. She was surprised when he reached up and curled his fingers under it. She gently squeezed back. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Barbara drove to the cemetery. She had not seen Tommy since the day Peter had died. She had ensured he and his mother were safely in a cab. Dorothy had been sobbing since the time she had arrived. Barbara had tried to leave, but Tommy had asked her to stay while the doctors spoke to them. Dorothy had broken down in a flood of tears. Tommy had comforted her, but it was awkward and uncomfortable to watch. Barbara wished she could be anywhere else. Even a month of paperwork would be better. His eyes had implored her to stay, and she could not deny him. Watching the family as they said goodbye was gut-wrenching, but Tommy needed support and, as always, she was there for him.

They had spoken on the phone several times, usually at night after work. He sounded distant, not from her but as if he was detached from life. Judith had arrived and taken charge of the arrangements. Tommy had not invited her over and she would never intrude uninvited. Each time she sat on the couch and listened to him slowly drifting into his own nightmare. She would have given anything for this not to have happened, and to see him sleeping peacefully there.

The chapel was full of an odd assortment of characters. There were the ones who were clearly family friends or people with whom Peter had attended Eton or Oxford. Then there was a decidedly scruffier group from his time rejecting society. Several of them looked stoned or worse. Some had clothes that showed their track marks almost proudly. Shock value perhaps.

Barbara saw Winston and Stuart. "Hiya."

Stuart smiled. "How is he?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't seen him."

"He'll be fine," Winston said as if to reassure her. From his tone, she could tell he was equally worried about their boss.

Barbara watched her friend closely as he escorted his mother and sister to the front pew. When he saw her, he gave a weak smile and slight nod of his head then flicked that stray lock of hair out of his eyes. He looked pale and hagged and considerably older. It broke Barbara's heart.

* * *

Barbara found it hard to concentrate. Rather than be paired with another DI, Hillier had assigned her to an audit of criminal cases from the last twenty years. At first, she thought it was a punishment, but had realised Hillier had wanted to protect her. He must want something. It was unlikely he had mellowed. She was working with an archivist who, true to the stereotype, wore thick horn-rimmed glasses and a grey dust coat. He was only in his fifties, but with a stoop and shuffling gait, he looked well past the retirement age.

After the service, Tommy had told Barbara and the others that he was taking six weeks leave and returning with his mother to Howenstowe. That was nearly three weeks ago and she missed him more than she cared to admit, even to herself. They had spoken on the phone every day, but each time he seemed more distracted and distant. On several occasions, she knew he had been far drunker than he was pretending to be. Last night had been horrid. They had argued. Barbara could not even remember what she had said that so offended him. He had been bitter and sarcastic and demanded to know who she thought she was telling him how to run his life when she had the emotional sensitivity of a hungry gnat. Then he had hung up.

She looked at her watch and sighed. Another twenty minutes before she could be liberated for lunch. "How are you going with the Smith murder, Archie?"

"Well thanks, Sergeant Havers. I should have everything finished by tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Saturday."

"Oh, I don't care. I work every day."

Barbara raised her eyebrows. Was this what life as a single person was like? "Well, I don't. I have no intention..." Her phone rang. It was Howenstowe. "I have to get this," she said backing out of the room.

"Sir, I didn't expect to hear from you until tonight, if at all."

"Barbara? It's Judith. I'm sorry to ring you like this, but..."

"Is he alright?" Barbara demanded.

"Physically yes, but he's become very maudlin."

"He sounded drunk last night."

"He hasn't stopped drinking since Wednesday. He blames himself for Peter. Then last night it became worse. Mother is worried she will lose both her sons. I had to have the doctor come and sedate her."

"I'm so sorry, Judith."

"Can you come down and see him? If anyone can get through to him, it's you."

"He won't want to see me."

"Why not?"

"Apparently I have the emotional sensitivity of a hungry gnat."

"My brother can be cruel at times. I don't believe he meant it."

"Judith, it's too far to drive to be insulted. When Helen died, he thought my concern was meddling too. That was... hard. I don't want to overstep the line and..." She did not bother to finish her sentence.

"And what?"

It seemed the sister could be as annoying as the brother. Barbara took a deep breath. "And lose his friendship forever."

"And what if we lose _him_ forever? We Lynleys are not good at begging, Barbara, but I am doing that now. I can't manage him and Mother. I need your help. Please, Barbara."

Barbara balled her hand into a fist. "I'll drive down in the morning. I should be there just after lunch."

"I have taken the liberty of booking you on tonight's flight. It leaves Gatwick at seven. I will have a car pick you up at New Quay."

"Judith! "

"I know. I have become my brother. Please, Barbara."

Havers closed her eyes and ran through her options. She sighed loudly so Judith would hear. "I keep a bag at work. I can leave from here. I'm pretty sure the Gatwick train leaves from Victoria. Where do I pick up my ticket?"

"Thank you, Barbara. I appreciate this, and I know Mother will too. I have an e-ticket I will email to you."

"Then I will see you tonight."

* * *

Barbara's hands shook as the car tyres crunched over the gravel of Howenstowe's long drive. She was tempted to tell the driver to turn back. The front door opened and Judith rushed out. She looked exhausted and scared. Barbara's fear was swallowed by her concern.

"Thank you." Judith nearly suffocated her with a desperate hug.

"Where is he?"

"In his study. He smashed something against the wall about twenty minutes ago. We have that about every hour. Goodness knows what the insurance assessors will say."

Barbara shook her head. "I think that is the least of the family's problems right now. I don't know if I can do anything, Judith."

"You can't make it worse."

Barabra's eyebrows twitched. "You haven't heard us argue."

"No, but he listens to you. We can't reach him. Maybe you can. I'll show you to your room, then we can see. It's better than doing nothing."

* * *

Judith escorted her to the study. A dim light came from under the door. Barbara took a deep breath then knocked.

"Go away, Judith."

"It's not Judith, it's me."

"Havers?" Unsteady footsteps stumbled across the timber floor. The door opened six inches. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I was worried about you."

"Don't be. I have my friend." He waggled a tumbler half full of what smelt like whisky in her face. "My best friend. My only solace."

Barbara felt a dagger stab her heart, but she did not let it show. "I see you and your friend have been getting on well." His face was covered with a stubbly beard and he looked as if he had slept in his jeans and shirt for days.

He smiled in a high-handed, self-satisfied, drunken way. "We have."

"Are you going to let me in?"

Tommy tilted his head as if considering it. "Er... No." Barbara pushed against the door with her shoulder. It opened a little further. "I see, Havers. Never one to take no for and answer." He stepped back and Barbara tumbled into the room. She found her footing and stopped herself falling in an ungainly heap at his feet.

Barbara looked around. Several empty bottles were stacked neatly near the bookcases. There was another lying near the sofa. Fragments of something green lay at the base of the wall near the door and there was a sizeable dent in the wood at thigh level. Books were scattered on the floor and his glass horse paperweight was lying on its back amidst paper clearly swiped off his desk.

She nodded at his glass. "Got any more of that?"

Tommy closed the door and pointed to his credenza. "Bottles and bottles. And when stocks run low, I have the money to buy more. I could buy the distillery. Have them ship it straight here."

He walked over and pulled out another glass. The bottle clanked against it and his hand shook violently as he tried to pour her drink. She put her hand on his. "Here, let me."

Tommy looked at her. His red-rimmed eyes were sad but just a little light flicked across them when she squeezed his hand. He stepped back to let her pour. "I might have to start drinking it straight from the bottle." He sounded disgusted with himself. "Won't waste any that way."

"Sir, you can't keep doing this to yourself."

"Why not? I don't have the courage to shoot myself." He held up his glass. "I hoped this might give me Dutch courage to do it. But... too many crime scenes. Die young, leave a good looking corpse. Shooting is too..."

"Messy?"

"Comp-li-cated. I want something straightforward. We have high cliffs that end abruptly with hard rocks."

"No! Tommy!"

They both stopped and stared at each other. Tommy broke the spell by laughing ruefully. "Do you know how long I have waited for you to call me that? And now it happens. At the end, it happens."

"It's not the end."

"Yes, Barbara, it is. I am tired of it all. Tired of battling to stay afloat every day. Tired of getting up just to get knocked back down. Tired of letting people I love die. Tired of failing people. Failing my family, you... I even fail me."

"You don't."

"What?"

"Fail me."

'"I do. You have never been shy about telling me my shortcomings. Poncy... high-handed... hot-heated... intemperate... need I go on?"

"No, but maybe I should have told you all your strengths instead."

Tommy drained his glass in one gulp. "Would be a much shorter list."

"What about kind? Thoughtful? Caring? Intelligent? Witty? Patient? Understanding? Empathetic?"

"Isn't that the same as understanding?"

Barbara grinned at him. "Don't split hairs."

Tommy sat on his couch beneath the window. Barbara could tell it was also where he had slept lately. "Carry on. You were trying to boost my ego as I remember."

"No, I am trying to make you see past your self-pity. Yes, Peter died. Yes, he rang you. You will never know if answering it would have helped, but you can't blame yourself. Peter was an addict but you didn't cause that. It was his choice, just as our choices were to do something different with our lives to make a positive difference. Peter had issues, but he was also selfish, Tommy. What if he rang you just to have this effect knowing what he was going to do anyway?"

"I can blame myself. Not for the other night as much as when Peter was seven. Helen knew, but maybe you should too. Then you'll understand that I do deserve my fate."

Barbara sat beside him. "Tell me."

* * *

What had started as a story about his mother and Peter had become an outpouring of his life. Tommy was exhausted, mentally and physically. She doubted he had slept much in recent days even with his attempts to block his emotions with whisky. He had refilled their glasses twice, and after the second time had hunted her to the end of the sofa. She had not known what to expect, but him lying down and laying his head in her lap had not been on her list of possibilities. She was flattered by his trust. Barbara stroked Tommy's hair.

"That's nice, Barbara. So do you forgive me?"

Barbara stroked his head again, then began to gently massage it. His groan indicated approval. "There's nothing for me to forgive. None of what you said affected me directly. I know how easy it is to become estranged from your family. You always want to fix it, but you can't. Peter missed out on his brother but he still had his mother and sister. You weren't responsible for his drug taking. That was his choice and for his reasons. You may have been part of it, but if he had stopped to think rationally, then he should have thought you were only a boy too. To find your mother like that... You weren't to blame. If anyone was, it was her, but she's human too, and I imagine she has paid for her mistakes every day since."

"Yes, and Peter's death only made it worse."

Barbara left her hand on his head and caressed his cheek with her thumb. "Watching you slowly destroy yourself is hurting her too. If anything happened to you, it would kill her."

He started to sit up but fell back onto her lap. "Am I supposed to stay alive just to please others? What about what I want to do? Don't I have a say in this?"

"Sir, if..."

"Tommy. We established that. I'm Tommy now. I don't want you to call me Sir ever again. It's too respectful."

"I do respect you, Tommy."

For the first time, he smiled. "You shouldn't."

"Why? Because you don't respect yourself?"

He frowned. "Probably."

She ran her finger across his face again. "You can be an idiot at times. A lot of times. But I still... respect you."

"Even when I am like this?"

"Even now."

They stared at each other. He looked afraid and lost but hopeful. Above all, his eyes were like they had been that first night in her flat years ago. He loved her. Not necessarily romantically, but having someone love her was something she had never expected. Tears began to well in Barbara's eyes and she smiled awkwardly to hide them.

Tommy patted the sofa beside him. "I need a cuddle."

Barbara nodded. So did she. He moved so she could stand and take off her shoes then wriggled to the back of the sofa. She sat down tentatively and swung her legs up. His arms clamped around her so hard she grunted. The warmth of his body relaxed her. She was unsure where to put her left arm, so let it rest between them. The right tucked in under his and without thought, her hand rubbed his back. One of his arms was under her neck and both his hands were caressing her back. She swallowed the lump developing in her throat. Their bodies felt as if they were melting into each other. _Heaven knows what is would be like if we were naked_. She grunted at the thought. Now was not the time for hormones and repressed desires to kick in. She was supporting her friend.

"I've wanted this for so long."

His words broke the spell. "You've what?"

"Wanted to be in your arms. Wanted you in mine."

"Tommy... I... I don't understand."

"Am I that unclear? Barbara... I love you."

Her heartbeat sped up and her head spun. "Why?"

"Because you are you. You understand me. You're always there for me, even when you should run a mile. Because you drove down here to save me..."

"Judith paid for me to fly here," she confessed.

"You still came. And I know I love you because I waited. I couldn't kill myself without seeing you again. I didn't care about anyone but you. I didn't want you to hate me."

"I could never hate you."

"Oh good. Well If that's settled, I should go out and jump off then should I?"

"No. Don't be like that."

"I'm sorry. You should hate me. The way I behave. The way I treat you. I don't deserve you."

Barbara pulled him closer. He had poured out his heart to her for hours and now needed a response. "I love you too, Tommy. Too much for my own good probably."

His hug tightened and he let out a long, exhausted sigh. "Why too much?"

"I thought that was obvious."

"No. I'm having trouble following Havers' logic right now. Put it down to the whisky."

"I love you more... comprehensively."

"Is this a competition?"

"No."

"And you know the depth of my love how exactly? You have some magic measuring stick do you?"

"Tommy, don't be like that. I love you as my friend, but... I also have other feelings for you. Satisfied?" Her face was burning and her eyes barely held back her tears.

Tommy started to laugh. "Oh, Havers. You wonderfully complex woman. What do you think I was saying? We both know we have loved each other as friends for years. Let me spell it out. I am IN love with you, Barbara, as my best friend, as my confidante, AND romantically." He kissed her cheek. "Definitely sexually," he added seductively.

Barbara barely dared to breathe. "Oh."

Tommy chuckled. With his lips still against her cheek, a warm shiver rippled to her toes. "That night before... Peter. I had intended to go back to your flat and... not spent the night on your couch."

Barbara ran her fingers up his back and into his hair. "I've waited. When you never said it did anything, I assumed..."

"That I was too scared of offending you?"

"No, that your feelings were just friendship."

Tommy buried his face in her hair beside her ear. "We've wasted such a long time."

"Mmmm."

He moved back to look at her. "I can't kiss you. I stink of whisky. I want it to be special, not repulsive. Stay with me. Help me sober up, then..."

Barbara nodded. "Then."

Tommy took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "But don't leave me tonight."

"I won't leave you."

"It might be hard. I... will try though, I promise."

Barbara kissed his cheek. "I know. We'll make it, Tommy."

"I'll never understand why you stay when you should run as far and fast as you can. The way I behave. The way I treat you. I don't deserve you."

"We will probably argue just the same, and even though there might be a thousand reasons to go, I will always find one reason to stay, and that's enough. I have that, don't I?"

"We both do." Tommy nestled against her and sighed contentedly.


End file.
